


Room Arrangements

by skatzaa



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Jedi Temple (Star Wars), Post-Star Wars: The Phantom Menace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-31 10:20:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20113519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skatzaa/pseuds/skatzaa
Summary: Anakin has some concerns about room arrangements at the Temple. Obi-Wan does his best to reassure him.





	Room Arrangements

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be something quick that explored Jedi living arrangements. It, uh, got away from me a bit. I speed wrote 90% of this while vibrating out of my skin after drinking coffee with caffeine in it for the first time in ages, so sorry if any of it reflects that, lol.
> 
> I've been really interested in looking deeper into the Temple ever since I checked out Star Wars: Complete Locations from my library. I really wanted to take a look at Obi and Ani in the context of _not_ sharing living quarters, as is a favorite of fandom (and myself!).

Anakin didn’t move even after the door slid closed behind him, leaving him alone in the tiny, empty room. Obi-Wan had assured him that Anakin himself wouldn’t be sleeping here—correctly interpreting Anakin’s hesitance as soon as the door had opened to reveal the room’s interior—but it still made his skin crawl, like the wind had scraped loose sand over his exposed arm.

It was just so _empty. _His house on Tatooine had felt cozier, and that was in the slave quarter. How was he supposed to leave Obi-Wan here, all by himself, in this quiet little cell? And, meanwhile, Anakin would have to live in a shared dormitory, with the other kids his age.

He wasn’t sure which sounded worse, really.

Anakin whirled around just before the door slid open again to reveal Obi-Wan, slightly out of breath but grinning. He held up his hands, showing Anakin the small black case that had sent him dashing off a few minutes earlier.

“Here we are,” Obi-Wan said, stepping fully into the room. “Now we can tidy up your hair a bit. Here, come here—yes, yes, please sit.”

Seated on the single stool in the room, Anakin allowed himself to be pushed into a more convenient position for Obi-Wan to work on his hair. _Again._

He had a point, Anakin could admit, frowning slightly. Their last few days on Naboo had been hectic, and, while Ob-Wan had cut his hair into the correct padawan style then, his hands had trembled the entire time. The result had been far from perfect, and, to make matters worse, Anakin’s hair hadn't been long enough to really braid right. Still wasn’t, but at least he wouldn’t look like a startled bantha calf anymore.

Obi-Wan hummed as he worked, the sound barely audible over the buzz of the clippers. It would’ve been nice, if he didn’t sound, in Anakin’s inexpert opinion, so much like an eopie drunk on old, fermented fruit.

To look around the room would be to risk getting his ear cut, but Anakin could still feel the emptiness pressing down on them the longer he sat there.

“Did Mister Qui-Gon have a room like this?” Anakin asked when he couldn’t stand the humming any longer.

Obi-Wan fell quiet, and for a long moment the only sound in the room was that of the clippers. Then he said, “By the time I was his padawan, yes.”

“Does that mean he had other padawans?” Anakin asked, curiosity piqued. Padawans? Padawan? He didn’t know which was correct. “Does that make them like, your siblings or something?”

Obi-Wan sighed and turned the clippers off. There was the sound of him placing them on the ground, the sensation of loose hair being brushed off his shoulders, and then Obi-Wan stepped around to sit on the edge of the cot, facing Anakin. He rested his elbows on his knees and folded his hands. There was quiet again as Obi-Wan stared at his intertwined fingers.

Shame crept up over Anakin. Did he do something wrong? Maybe something bad happened to one of them, maybe—maybe he shouldn’t bring up Mister Qui-Gon anymore? He didn’t want to make Obi-Wan _sad._

Obi-Wan looked up and smiled slightly, like he could read Anakin's thoughts. Could Jedi do that?

“Qui-Gon did have other apprentices, yes,” he said, voice soft. He sounded far away, sort of. Like he was here, but not really. “Though the relationship is not really analogous to siblings, even when they might know each other. Cousins might be the best comparison, if one had to use a familial term.”

Anakin didn’t have any cousins that he knew of; no one in the slave quarter did, because they were sold from one master to the next so often that it became impossible to keep track of _anyone._ Cousins didn’t sound as cool as siblings, but he supposed that was alright. Jedi were different anyway, and he bet it’d be nice to have a _cousin_ once he grew up and Obi-Wan picked another padawan.

Obi-Wan continued, “One became a Temple Guard after his apprenticeship—the guards were the ones with the masks and yellow bladed light sabers we saw when we arrived, remember?”

Anakin nodded and shuddered. He’d found them creepy—silent as statues, with those tiny slits in their masks to let them see.

“His name was Feemor. If I’ve ever met him, I didn’t know it. They give up their names as part of the training process.” Obi-Wan must’ve caught Anakin’s grimace, because he laughed a little bit. “Yes, I understand. It is the ultimate commitment to the Order, after becoming a crèche master and looking after the younglings, but it’s not the correct path for everyone.”

Anakin thought that over. He guessed it was alright, so long as no one was forcing them to do it, and so long as no one asked _him_ to join.

He asked, “But do you know the other one? Can I meet them?”

Now it was Obi-Wan’s turn to grimace, though Anakin didn’t understand why.

“I met Xanatos a few times before he died,” Obi-Wan said.

Anakin deflated. So it was just him and Obi-Wan in their Jedi not-family, then.

Wait.

He perked up again; that _couldn’t _be the whole story.

“And?” he demanded. “What was he like?”

Obi-Wan sighed again and brought both hands up to rub his eyes. He did that a lot, from what Anakin could tell.

“Do you remember our conversation on the ship about Light and Dark?” Obi-Wan asked.

Anakin nodded. Light was good, sort of, and Dark was bad. It was why he’d have to learn to control his emotions better, like a real Jedi. He wasn’t very good at it yet, but Obi-Wan had told him that was okay, and that he’d get better the more he practiced.

“Xanatos fell to the Dark side,” Obi-Wan said. He looked really tired. Anakin felt sort of bad about asking, now. “He let all of his negative emotions—hatred and fear and anger—control him, instead of the other way around.”

Right.

Anakin looked down at his hands and was surprised to see they were gripping the edges of the stool very tightly. He hadn’t even realized he was doing that.

“I—” his voice was too soft, and he took a deep breath before starting again. “I felt all of those things a lot, back on Tatooine. And when we were on Naboo.”

Obi-Wan was quiet for a few seconds, then his hands were in Anakin’s field of vision, palms held upward. Anakin could see lots of little scars all over; Obi-Wan had the hands of a slave. Or maybe all Jedi had hands that looked the same, he didn’t know.

Anakin slowly uncurled his fingers from the stool and let Obi-Wan take his hands. Obi-Wan drew him to sit on the edge of the bed and wrapped one arm around him when Anakin leaned against his shoulder.

“Everyone feels negative emotions sometimes, young one,” Obi-Wan told him, his voice a deep rumble that Anakin felt as much as heard. “What’s important is that we don’t allow them to influence us and our actions. That’s why meditation is so important, especially for Jedi who are particularly strong in the Force, like yourself, or those who receive visions of possible futures.”

Anakin thought of all the times he had let his anger take over, with his mom and his friends and anyone else who couldn’t hurt him like Watto or the other masters could. He sniffed, feeling his eyes start to burn.

He didn’t _want_ to cry, but it was this cold, overwhelming planet—this small, empty room—the ache he felt every time he thought of his mom, alone now to deal with Watto—the fact that Mister Qui-Gon was dead—the thought of being away from Obi-Wan, the one person he knew here, instead surrounded by strangers. He scrunched his nose up, but that didn’t stop the tears from running down his face, hot and embarrassing.

“Oh, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, and Anakin let himself be gathered up in Obi-Wan’s lap even though it was probably un-Jedi-like, because he _really _wanted a hug. He wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan’s neck and held on tight.

“You—y-you don’t even have a window!” he wailed into the fabric of Obi-Wan’s tunic. It wasn’t what he wanted to say, not really, but it was the first thing that forced itself out of his mouth, and he started crying even harder because of it. He couldn't even _say_ the right thing.

“It’s okay, Ani,” Obi-Wan said, one big, warm hand coming up to hold the back of Anakin’s head, the other rubbing his back. They rocked slightly as Obi-Wan shifted his weight first one direction, then the other. “It’s okay, little one, I’ve got you.”

It took him a long time to calm down, but through it all, Obi-Wan held him and rocked him and rubbed his back, talking softly the entire time. Anakin hiccuped sharply and painfully, and that made him cry more, because it _hurt._

“I know, I know,” Obi-Wan soothed. “I’m very sorry, Ani.”

Eventually, Anakin ran out of tears and just hung from Obi-Wan’s neck, sniffling.

“Better?” Obi-Wan asked softly. Anakin nodded, rubbing his face against Obi-Wan’s neck. “That was a long time coming, I think. It’s okay to feel negative emotions, Ani, and even to cry like that. But meditation can help regulate how you feel, so your emotions don’t build up and overwhelm you, as they just did. Does that make sense?”

Anakin nodded again. Then, feeling ashamed, he whispered, “I’m scared about sleeping in the dormitories, even though I know I shouldn’t be. Because what if the other kids don’t like me, or think I’m stupid because there’s so much I don’t know about being a Jedi?”

“Alternatively, what if you make some wonderful friends?” Obi-Wan said. “Many of my fondest memories revolve around the friends I made as a padawan, as a result of living in the dormitories. I won’t deny that there are occasionally… bullies, but that’s why it’s important to talk to me about things, so I can help you handle any obstacles.”

Anakin stayed stubbornly silent. Maybe Obi-Wan had a point, but Anakin didn’t _want_ to live with them. He wanted to live with _Obi-Wan._

There was pressure on his sides as Obi-Wan wrapped his hands around his waist, then pulled him back so they were eye-to-eye.

“Anakin, I'm not dismissing your worries out of hand, simply trying to help you see the other side of things. I will be the first to admit that there is much for you to learn about the Jedi ways,” Obi-Wan said seriously. “And there are things that will be different for you _because_ you didn’t grow up here like the rest of us.”

Like how Obi-Wan had said, on the trip back from Naboo, that Anakin didn’t have to call him _Master_ when it was just the two of them. As a sign of respect for their experiences, he should address other adults that way, but that wasn’t something Obi-Wan would ask of him until he was more comfortable at the Temple. 

“As much as you will learn from myself and your classes,” Obi-Wan said, still holding Anakin’s gaze, “there is just as much to learn from your age mates.”

Anakin opened his mouth to respond, but Obi-Wan cut him off, a weird smile on his face that didn’t look much like a smile at all. Anakin didn’t like it.

“Plus, you don’t want to be stuck with just boring old Obi-Wan Kenobi all the time.” He shook his head, and his smile became a little more normal. “Being with younglings your age _will_ be better for you in the long run, I promise.”

Puffing up in indignation, Anakin said, “No way! You’re _awesome, _not boring.” His mind whirred like a podracer shifting into a higher gear, trying to find the right words. “I bet all the other kids will be jealous that _I’m_ the one that gets to learn from you.”

Obi-Wan laughed brightly.

“You flatter me, Ani, although jealousy is unbecoming of a Jedi.” He ruffled Anakin’s hair. “Nevertheless, you’ll be in the dorms unless you have any issues, okay?” He frowned, raising a finger. _“Real_ issues, not ones that you coordinate. We can revisit the idea if you end up ill-suited to that particular dorm.”

Anakin knew he was pouting, but didn’t put in the effort to stop.

“Alright,” Obi-Wan said, standing and depositing Anakin on his feet beside him. “What do you say we get some lunch, and then go and speak to someone about potential dorms? That way you can meet different groups and see where you’ll best fit.”

Anakin considered protesting for a moment, then shrugged. At least he’d have _some_ say. And who knows; maybe, if he was really lucky, he wouldn’t fit in anywhere, and get to stay with Obi-Wan instead.

He took Obi-Wan’s offered hand and followed him out into the hall. He really wanted to stay, but he also knew Obi-Wan would be disappointed if he didn’t even _try_ to get along with the other kids.

He would try, then. For Obi-Wan’s sake.

Satisfied with this plan, he let Obi-Wan lead him to lunch.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Comments and kudos are always appreciated. Please let me know if you feel there's anything that should be tagged that I didn't get. I'm always looking to improve as a writer!
> 
> Read on,  
Skats


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